


Heart and Soul

by Meri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-15
Updated: 2007-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:53:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meri/pseuds/Meri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heart Coda. Dean takes care of things immediately after the episode</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart and Soul

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** These characters don't belong to me and I'm not making a profit of any kind.
> 
>  **Notes:** Many thanks to my betas destina and estrella30, any mistakes after all their hard work are solely mine.

Dean flinched at the shot. Closing his eyes, and wiping away the tear he couldn't help, he forced himself back into the living room. Sam sat on the floor, covered in her blood. His long legs were spread out in front of him, Madison's body stretched across his lap. The gun hung limply from his hand. His head was down, over her chest, his cheeks wet, still dripping.

For a moment, Dean stopped, frozen. He straightened his shoulders. As much as he wanted to take Sam and get the fuck out of there as fast and as far as he could get them, they couldn't just leave, not with all the evidence they'd leave behind. There were already too many people looking for them.

Damage control, first.

He grabbed the blanket off the bedroom floor, and gently pulled her body from his brother's arms to lay her on it. There was nothing they could do about the shot splatter, but no sense in making it easy for anyone to figure it out. The dirty towels from the bathroom went around her. They didn't need the blood going everywhere.

"Sam," Dean said quietly, putting a hand on his brother's still shaking shoulder, his fingers digging in just a little. "I'm gonna need some help with this, okay?"

Sam looked at him, eyes not quite focused, face still streaked with running tears and snot. "What?"

"Seriously, dude, I'm gonna need you to clean-up, get the blood off you. Then wipe down every surface, no prints anywhere. Bleach if you can find it." He didn't need to tell Sam what to do, but maybe it would help to get him moving, give him something to concentrate on.

Wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt, Sam nodded and climbed to his feet slowly. When he swayed, Dean put a hand on his arm to steady him. "Okay?"

Sam looked down at him, and smiled slightly. "Yeah. Thanks."

"I'll get you some clean clothes," Dean said, keeping his voice low.

Sam went into the bathroom and after a moment, Dean heard the water turn on.

After putting Sam's clothes on the bathroom counter, Dean had to touch him again. He kept it to a hand on Sam's shoulder. And Sam nodded, understanding.

Dean stripped the bed, and used the sheets to completely wrap her body without looking at her. She'd made the right decision, even if he could wish that she hadn't asked Sam to do it. It wasn't that he didn't understand or sympathize. Sam had held her, been the last thing she'd seen. If it were him, he'd want the same thing.

When Sam came out of the bathroom, he was moving slowly, mechanically. Dean heard his breath hitch as he laid the dirty towel over her body.

It was still daylight when they were ready to leave. Dean was pretty sure the cops would have been here already if they had been heard. There were only four apartments in the converted house, so they were probably okay.

Sam carried her body down while Dean brought the car around to the alley. Neither one of them said a word. They didn't have to. But Sam's hands were trembling as he closed the car door, and slumped against it.

* * *

"It will take ten minutes, tops, Sammy," Dean said as he pulled into the parking lot of their motel. He reached across the car, and put his hand on Sam's arm. Sam's eyes blinked open and he nodded.

Once in the motel room, Dean didn't pause to think about anything, collecting their stuff, and shoving it into the duffle.

"We'll need to go into the mountains," Dean said as he eased the Impala onto the highway leading out of San Francisco.

"Okay. Whatever you think." Sam's voice cracked.

Dean took a breath, and focused on the road in front of him. Don't think too hard, just keep moving was the mantra in his head.

After a hundred fifty miles, driven in silence punctuated only by the sounds of their breathing, Dean was ready for this day to be over. By the time he left the highway, and found a county road into the mountains, it was starting to get dark. Dean found a dirt road that led into the woods. Another couple of miles and he pulled to a stop.

"We'll walk from here, okay?" Dean looked at Sam in the half-light of approaching night.

Sam nodded.

"Let me take her," Dean said as Sam lifted her body out of the trunk.

"No. I need to do this."

Dean didn't say anything to that. Couldn't. He'd let Sammy do it his way, whatever he wanted.

The ground was still hard from winter, but the force behind Sam's shovel cut through the hard-packed earth as if it were sand on the beach. Dean watched him for a moment and then started to dig himself. There were tears in Sam's eyes as he laid her gently into the grave. There were tears in Dean's eyes, too.

The fire illuminated the night. At least, they were far enough off the main road that it was unlikely that anyone would see it.

Sam was shaking as he started to shovel the dirt back into the hole they'd dug. Before Dean started to help him, he touched Sam's arm and met his eyes in the light of their flashlights. Nothing he could say would make it better, so he didn't try. But he was sorry it had come to this. Sam gave him a wan smile in return.

Ten miles into Nevada, Dean found a motel. Exhausted, dirty, and moving on automatic, it took three tries for Dean to put the key in the lock and open the door.

Sam simply followed him.

"Why don't you go take a shower," Dean said, as soon as they got into the room.

For one second, Sam stopped and looked at him. Then, he breathed out, nodding jerkily.

After about an hour, long past when the hot water would have run out, the hairs on the back of Dean's neck were on full alert. Should he let Sammy cry it out by himself, or should he go in there and see what he could do to comfort him? It had been so much easier when he'd been a kid, when he could just put his arms around Sam and that would be enough to make it better. Now, nothing he was going to do would help.

He pushed open the door. As he'd half-expected, Sam was sitting naked in the tub, his face buried in his hands, and the cold water sluicing down on him.

"Sammy?" Dean said tentatively, turning off the water, and kneeling down next to the tub. He put a hand on Sam's shoulder. He was ice cold. Grabbing one of the too-thin towels off the rack above him, Dean put it around Sam's shoulders and rubbed.

"I killed her." Sam's eyes looked bruised, but his voice wasn't hysterical. More cold, in shock, that hurt sound that went right through Dean. He'd rather have the hysterics that would release the pain.

Dean wasn't sure what to say, what would comfort Sam the most. Closing his eyes, he breathed out and said, "She didn't want to kill again. You did the right thing."

"Then why doesn't it feel that way? We should have found a way to save her."

God, why did Sam always have to second and third guess himself? "There wasn't anything we could have done. You researched it. If there had been anything, even another wild rumor, we would have found it. Nothing can cure Lycanthropy."

Sam shook his head. "But --"

"Sam. She asked you. She couldn't live with the possibility of killing someone else. She'd already killed four people. You honored her wishes." Dean closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly, hoping the pressure in his chest would dissolve a little. It should help more than it did that she'd done the only thing she could, and so had they.

"I know. I know I did. But that doesn't change the facts. Dean," Sam bit his lip, his eyes starting to fill again. "I hate this. I hate having to do this."

"I know," Dean said. He gently urged Sam's head onto his shoulder, feeling hot tears drip onto his neck. Dean's own eyes stung.

After a few minutes, Sam sobs lessened. Dean eased him back, pressing a kiss to Sam's forehead. He didn't say anything, because really, there was nothing to say. "Let's get you out of here and into bed."

Sam allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and took the towel that Dean handed him, drying himself off. Dean pulled Sam's warmest sweats and socks out of the duffel.

Sam's movements were jerky, slow as he pulled on the sweatpants. He paused holding the long-sleeved t-shirt in his hands, looking down at it as if he couldn't decide what to do with it. Finally, Dean helped him, pulling it over his head as he'd done when Sam had been too young to dress himself. He guided Sam to the bed, and tucked the blanket around him.

Dean changed and went to use the bathroom. When he got out, Sam was curled onto himself, still shivering in the cold room.

Sometimes when Sam was young and had been hurt or scared, Dean would hold him through the night. It was a comfort to both of them and helped them sleep. They weren't children anymore, but Dean slid into bed with him.

"Dean?" Sam asked even as he was turning towards him.

"Shut up." Dean couldn't talk about it. He did, however, wrap an arm around Sam and let Sam settle against him, leaning into his warmth.

"Thanks." Sam sighed against his neck, warm air making Dean shiver a little.

"Go to sleep." Dean closed his eyes and pretended to do the same.

-finis  
May 15, 2007


End file.
